He's My Son: Revised: ON HIATUS
by DeathByShyKid
Summary: On October 10th, things don't end the way we all think. The masked man doesn't succeed in extracting the Kyuubi no Kitsune. Kushina and Minato live to see tomorrow but at a cost. During the attack, Naruto was targeted. A hasty decision leads to Naruto being placed in a boat and left to sea. No one could have known what would happen in the end. (Full summary on Wattpad and A03)
1. Love from the Lost One

**A/N - Hello, everyone. Yes, as you've probably read from the title, this is the revised work of _He's My Son_. I apologize if this has upset anyone but I am not happy with the way _He's My Son_ was running since it felt like there were parts that were going too fast or too slow. The pace didn't fit the emotions and action in the story so I decided to rewrite everything, add shit in, and try to make this a better story for you all. I hope you do not leave me for restarting the story but, hey, at least you'll be able to relive your favorite moments in the story. As always, if you have a question, comment it and I will answer it in a Q&A Book that I'll get around to actually making shortly after posting this (it can be found on Wattpad as Fanfiction (.net) does not allow those kinds of books). Thank you for the wait, even if it meant a rewrite of parts you've already read...**

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The shine of a kunai held the wide eyes of the couple, the two desperately held onto each other. The weakest between them leaned into her husband's arms, knees quaking underneath her as she sobbed aloud. "No, please! Just let him go!" Kushina called out, heart pumping erratically from this masked man standing before them.

"Do as I say and I won't have to kill your son." The man's voice was icy cold, a hint of anger deep within his words. He pulled the kunai closer to the baby's tan throat. The boy was swaddled in a blue blanket with the word 'NARUTO' on the front in white lettering.

"You don't have to do this!" The taller of the couple yelled, supporting his wife as best as he could. He glanced at her; she's in no way suited for standing after just giving birth.

"Minato." The redhead whispered, pain in her eyes, "Please, do something." Chakra was probably the only thing that was helping her stay awake and on her feet.

"If you do not hand over the woman, your son will _die_." The harsh voice awoke the baby he so haphazardly held in his arms. Sky blue eyes opened, lips pulled into a frown as he sobbed in fear. The kunai moved down, pressing to the boy's chest. A thin line of blood trickling out causing the baby to wail in pain.

The Fourth Hokage growled lowly, not hiding his glare from the other man's sights. He pulled his wife closer to him, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "Kushina, when I get Naruto back, I need you to take him and _run_."

"Minato," The woman hissed, "even if I managed to get away, this… _man_ has already proven that he can catch up to me."

"Don't make me wait!" The masked man's anger was rising, patience running out, "If you do not hand over the Jinchuriki this instant, I will not hesitate to kill the child!" Their son's screams continued to fill their ears.

Kushina clutched her husband's hands, "He'll catch me, Minato, he'll take the Kyuubi and k-kill Naruto. What do we do then?"

His throat clenched, "I…"

A chuckle came from in front of them, "Planning your escape, aren't you?" The man pocketed the kunai, placing his freed hand around the Naruto's throat.

"NO! STOP IT!" The woman shrieked, tears trailing down her face.

"I told you not to make me wait." His voice was chillingly calm, hand starting to apply pressure to the boy's throat. Gagging noises came from the infant, hands flailing around wildly.

A flash of yellow came his way, the blue of a rasengan highlighting their features. The mysterious man took a step back, dropping the baby as the killing blow went straight through his lower abdomen without ever hurting him. Minato huffed aloud, grabbing his son before he ever touched the ground. He slid to the left, dodging a frontal attack from the man, going back to stand beside his wife.

A low growl came their way, fuming at the couple as Minato handed off Naruto to his mother. "You will regret this."

The blond-haired man stared with wide eyes, "Kushina, _run_! Get as far away as you can."

"I…" She glanced at the sobbing, gasping baby in her arms. The woman took a breather before nodding, her resolve solidifying, "Be safe."

"I'll try my best, now go!" Minato called out, blocking an onslaught of attacks from their opponent.

Kushina sprinted out of the area, her free hand pushing at tree branches and bushes that got in her way. Her wobbly legs screamed in pain but she refused to slow down. The new mother heaved, weak and venerable out in these woods. She hopped over stumps and tree roots sprouting from the ground. Darkness was clouding her visions, dotting her eyes. Kushina gasped as her foot connected with a tree root, slamming her weakened body into the ground. Luckily, she'd turn to the side as to not fall on Naruto whose cries had slowed down to hiccups.

She took deep breaths, pushing past her pain as she stood once more. Where does she take him? How can she _protect_ him, her only son? The safe houses were gone and ANBU probably wouldn't arrive for another ten or fifteen minutes. She was alone in this and had no idea what to do. Naruto shuffled around, hands gripping for her in his fearful state. Kushina stared at him for a few seconds, trying not to let her worries cloud her facial features, "It's okay, Naruto, you're going to be okay."

The sound of water filled her ears. The woman stopped, feet sliding across the dirt as she listened. It sounded like it was coming from all directions but that was probably just her heart pounding in her ears. She took deep breaths, eyes sliding shut as she listened carefully. The slow running of water felt close, somewhere to the…

Her eyes flew open, taking a harsh right. Kushina knew of the place up ahead; it was a thirty-foot canal in the middle of Konoha that traders and travelers used quite often. The canal opened to an estuary and then later the ocean. It was slow-moving and a great spot to hide. She sprinted as fast as she could go, the woman praying to Kami that everything would work out fine.

Kushina gave a weak smile as she reached the canal. She searched for a boat, one where she could hide Naruto until the enemy had been taken care of. There was one a few piers door, knocking against the concrete on the side of the canal. She dashed to it, stepping down the wooden steps. The woman placed her only child inside, "It's going to be okay, baby, I won't let anything happen to you." Hurt filled Naruto's blue eyes, staring up at his mother as if he were being neglected by her disappearing warmth. Kushina smiled down at the boy, a hand coming to run a hand through the tuff of blond hair on the top of his head. Naruto hummed happily, chubby fingers reaching out to her. She chuckled, rubbing the scar-like marks on her son's face.

" **So, this is where you've run off to, huh?"** A dark voice prodded from behind her. Kushina gasped, heart dropping as she whipped her head around, staring at the… man behind her. He grinned down at her frightened features. One-half of him was pure black while the other was white, green hair highlighting his piercing yellow eyes. The most damning features about him were the large flytrap-like plant surrounding his head.

In his panic, she reached to her thigh for a kunai only to realize that she didn't have any of her ninja gear on her. Kushina glared at the man before her; she had to protect her son at all costs, "Don't come any closer!"

The half-and-half man was not deterred by her threat, a dark hand quickly reaching out and grabbing her by her hair, **"We can't have you running off again."** He started to pull her up the stairs, easily able to subdue her in her weakened state.

"No! S-Stop it!" Kushina shrieked, thrashing around, trying desperately to get back to her son. She could see her son out of her peripheral vision, reaching out into the arm, his bottom lip quivering. Naruto's crying tugged at her heart knowing that her baby wanted his mother. The sobbing and wails came next, getting a strangled noise from Kushina as she could not do anything. "Let go!" She tugged her head back, pushing past the pain in her scalp, trying desperately to get back to her son. The redhead shut her eyes in pain, tears behind her lids. Her foot kicked something and hoped it to be the man tugging her up the stairs easily. Naruto's screams filled the air as the sound of running water left her ears.

The flytrap-like man slammed her face in a tree, grinning down at her; she cannot beat him. "The Kyuubi no Kitsune _will_ be ours." A calmer voice was speaking this time. Had it not been for her staring at his moving lips, Kushina would have almost believed that there was another person somewhere in the area.

"You can't have him!" Kushina fought once more, fingernails digging into the black skin, drawing blood to the surface. She could feel blood trailing down her face and from her nostrils but refused to acknowledge the pain.

"Well, I don't think you have much say in the matter." A voice stated from behind her.

The woman knew that voice instantly, eyes glaring at the masked man; she hadn't even realized that he was there. Her heart clenched, breathing becoming erratic. If that man was here, could that mean that Minato was… no more? No, it can't be. Kushina thrashed and screamed for someone to help, not being able to stop them from being dragged away. "LET ME GO!" She screamed, tears trailing down her face.

A three-pronged kunai whizzed past their heads quickly, a flash of yellow revealing a roughed-up Minato. He seethed angrily at the masked man and his accomplice. Dozens of ANBU's dropped from the trees, surrounding the two in a circle. The half-and-half man released Kushina who rolled away from the two to stand beside her husband.

" **It seems that we've been surrounded."** The dark voice stated emotionless, piercing yellow eyes staring at the shinobi.

The masked man nodded slowly, looking around, "It seems that we have."

"What do we do now?" The flytrap-like man turned his head towards the other.

"For now," A swirling vortex started to accumulate from the hole in his mask, "we depart and form a new plan."

" **As you wish."** The other stated, disappearing into the earth below.

"You're not getting away!" Minato screamed, a tagged kunai flying out but their enemies were gone. The ANBU agents fanned out to search for the two mysterious men.

"Minato…"

He looked at his weakened wife, noticing her disheveled appearance. The Fourth Hokage squatted in front of her, "Kushina, are you alright?

She took slow breaths, waving her hand dismissively, "I just need some rest."

"Where's Naruto?"

"In one of the boats at the canal. That other man took me away from him." The redhead stated, Minato reaching down to pick her up bridal style.

"Can you take me there?" He whispered, Kushina nuzzling her head against his shoulder.

She nodded, eyes glazed over, pointing in the direction of the canal, "Just keep walking straight, it should be just ahead."

"Alright." Minato smiled down at his exhausted wife, taking careful steps forward. Their trip was silent except for Kushina's slow, deep breaths – in and out, over and over again. "Are you okay?" The blond-haired Hokage questioned.

The young woman thought for a second before giving him a soft smile, "I'm exhausted."

He chuckled, "As am I."

"Lord Fourth!" An ANBU dropped in front of them.

"Boar." Minato greeted, not stopping in his movements, "What is it? Have you found those two yet?"

"I apologize, sir, their chakra signatures cannot be located anymore and there have been no signs of them yet." The agent stated, power walking to keep up with the man's steps.

He bobbed his head in understanding, "I see, then what must be the problem?"

The ANBU agent composed themselves, "Your son."

Minato froze, about to say something but his wife beat him to it. Kushina nearly scrambled out of his arms in alarm, fear in his eyes, "What's wrong?! Where is he?! Did they take him?!"

"It is hard to say for sure since you," The masked shinobi motioned his head to the redhead, "were the only one aware of the boy's whereabouts. Once we knew where to look, I sent a few agents that way to take a look around the canal but we have not found anything yet."

The mother pushed at her husband's arms, tears pooling in her eyes, "I _have_ to get there."

"Kushina!" Minato secured her in his arms, staring into her eyes, "I can't allow you to walk by yourself; you'll either fall or pass out and neither are very good outcomes. You're overexerting yourself, just let me help you."

She took deep breaths, nodding slowly, "Yeah, o-okay."

"He's going to be alright." The man whispered, pulling his wife closer to his broad chest before picking up the pace towards the canal. The ANBU traveled with them the whole way, keeping silent until they'd reached the small piers.

"Where was the boy located?" The agent questioned, hand raised to signal to the other shinobi.

"I put Naruto in a boat to make sure he was hidden from the men attacking us. It was… the fourth one!" Kushina pointed down the rows of piers.

Minato smiled down at her shakily, "Nice thinking."

"T-Thanks." She appreciated the compliment but there was a churning feeling of foreboding in her stomach.

Two ANBU members swarmed the fourth pier from their location, simply just staring at the open water underneath the wooden stairs. The boar masked agent turned his head to stare at the couple, "I'm sorry."

"W-What?" Kushina felt like she couldn't breathe.

"The boat is _gone_." They stated slowly.

This time, the red-haired woman did not follow her husband's advice. She easily pushed his strong arms away, dashing clumsily towards the stairs. Kushina fell to her nears at the top of the stairs, looking onwards with wide, teary eyes. The boat was nowhere in sight and neither was Naruto. Minato was at her side in an instant, pulling his wife into a side hug as she sobbed into his shoulders. She mumbled out her apologies, calling out her guilt. "Find him." The Hokage's voice was stern but concerned, "Find my _son_."

"Yes, sir." ANBU agents disappeared into the air, scouring the canal, following the water as far as they could.

"I'm sorry!" Kushina cried out.

Minato smoothed her messy hair, kissing the top of her head, "Shh, it's not your fault. We'll find him…"

 _If only he truly believed that._


	2. He's a Tiny Thing

**A/N - I have three more prewritten chapters for the rewrite that I'm probably going to post on Mondays since those are my busiest days of the week and will allow me relaxation time to get more chapters out for, well, _anything_ at this point. I may be taking a break from Naruto fanfictions to explore Marvel fanfictions but that's still kind of in the air at the moment. I'm looking into my schedule to see if it might change my mind but the numbers aren't looking too good, with finals popping up in the coming months. Though summer break is just around the corner and I _know_ for certain that I barely have anything planned during that time so I'll probably write during the majority of it. Well, that's enough of a monologue for now; enjoy the rewrite!**

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Zabuza hid the sneer crawling onto his face as he exited the Mizukage's office, having finished collecting his hard-earned money for a stupid-simple A-ranked mission. He could feel Yagura's eyes on him simply boring into his wide back. The older man hid his shudder of hatred as he left the cold, dead office. The swordsman could have gagged from just thinking about the _child_ running their village but held back the bile threatening to rise up his throat; his mission was a success and he'd been paid, that was all that matter.

For now, at least.

There was nothing else that could have ever mattered more to Zabuza than the money he earned; _no one_ mattered more than his money. As a child, he might have considered his old friends as someone that was of importance to him but the black-haired man had murdered them all during his Academy years. He did not hold guilt for his crimes committed against the twelve-year-olds - Zabuza would gladly kill them again; survival of the fittest, his instructors had told him. There was never a family of his to care about for the mere fact that they were no such thing ever present in his life, raising up to be just another orphan on the streets begging for the scraps of passersby. He no longer had to worry about being a starving child for he was a fierce warrior with a cold heart. Zabuza could care less about these heathens in this ridiculous excuse for a village – Kirigakure, such a vile and horrendous place. People here were afraid of his very existence – good, he mused to himself, they ought to – due to being one the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist.

One day, he'll burn this place down to the ground for the things it's done to its people.

The man let out a chuckle, scaring the individuals around him from such a deep noise penetrating the quiet, tense air. Zabuza couldn't care about love either, he mused, as a significant other would merely pull him down. They'd beg and plead for him to stop from arising as a powerful foe who'd stop his birth village once and for all. He knew from a young age that there was nothing to love or care in this foggy village, nothing that matter other than the missions provided for him and the cash he'd receive from it. Even if he had to deal with other swordsmen – ones that he _almost_ trusts with his life – and a Mizukage who's lost his marbles, money was the only thing that mattered.

The Kubikiribōchō user stopped at a little bar he frequented after rather long, boring missions. In all honesty, he was ready to drown himself in alcohol – he just wanted to get as far away from reality as he could – but, when presented the opportunity of chugging down different types of intoxicating beverages, Zabuza decided against it. He didn't want to deal with a head-splitting hangover the following morning, especially after a mission. It would become too much of a bother so the swordsman settled on drinking himself into a slight buzz.

The bar owner – some random man whose name Zabuza had never bothered to find out – nodded at him. He was a buff man with battle scars and a missing eye – most likely a former ninja, the swordsman mused to himself. The brooding older man cleaned a glass with a rather odd colored cloth, glancing at the swordsman with muddy eyes, "So, what'll it be?"

"Shochu **(1)**." The two never spoke much but Zabuza hadn't ever been bothered by the owner's presence.

After a minute or two, a bottle of shochu and a glass were placed in front of him. "Serve yourself." The man stated in a gruff voice, heading towards the back to do who-knows-what.

Zabuza sighed harshly, annoyed by the bar owner's tone of voice, before pulling down the bandages over his mouth. He took slow breaths, always fascinated with the way his hot breath created a little puff of air in the cool night. There was a shift beside him that caught the man's attention instantly. Turning his head, the black-haired swordsman could see a petrified-looking citizen on the bar stool, trembling with fear. Zabuza grinned, baring his sharpened teeth at the commoner. There was a small whimper from them as their hand shot into a loose pocket, hastily pulling out some money. They slammed it down on the table before they disappeared into the night. The owner peeked his head out, glaring at the swordsman before returning to his work in the back.

The older man gave a laugh, pouring out some shochu for himself, downing it within seconds. After a number of drinks, he could already start to feel the familiar numbness in his mouth, the warmth in his chest. He hummed in content; this was _just_ what he needed. Zabuza ran a hand through his tousled hair as he finished most of the bottle. He was a little over a buzz, heading straight for tipsy; he should probably stop if he didn't want a hangover. The Kubikiribōchō holder pulled up the bandages pooling around his neck, hiding his dangerously sharp teeth before fishing through a bag on his hip. He counted a small number of coins for his alcoholic beverage, laying it on the counter before standing up and leaving the bar.

The cold, bitter breeze whispered in his ears and filled his core. The snow crunched underneath his feet rhythmically as the man stared up, curiosity in his dark eyes. The stars couldn't be seen from the accumulating fog reaping around his ankles and in the surrounding area; sad really but not at all concerning as it happened frequently. Zabuza stuffed his freezing hands into his pockets, just gazing at his encompassing stretch of land around him. There really wasn't a destination in mind at first, having not wanting to head home just yet. He simply just wandered, listening in on the music of the night. It was the slow rocking noise that pulled him towards the shoreline past the dunes and towards the beachfront, made him feel sober despite the tingling in his throat.

After a while, the Kubikiribōchō swordsman sat down on the cold sand, slipping down the bandages over his mouth for a second time that night. Zabuza leaned back, hand digging into the wet grit that the ocean's waters lapped at happily. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly all the while marveling at its heated atmosphere that puffed into the cool air. The older man took his time collecting his thoughts, eyeing his hot air billowing in front of him, tickling his nose slightly. He found himself sighing then; he may not be one to be depressed or saddened by the shitty card he'd been dealt from the beginning, but he'll allow himself this one chance at humanity every now and then.

There was a lingering pain in his chest – it had always been present but, most days, Zabuza could push it behind him and simply forget it was there at all. He found that it'd been caused by his loneliness, one that was brought on by his own self-destructing habits. It allowed itself to be most present when he was alone, pulsating and stabbing at his heart furiously, sometimes taking his breath away or, on a rarer case, bring a tear to his eye. He never dared to let it fall, having once vowed to quit his tears when he killed his fellow academy students all those years ago. Zabuza found that this pain would whisper his broken regrets to the pumping of his heart and purposely tried to bring the man down, make him guilty for what he's done.

Despite wishing for it not to be true, he was guilty of a whole lot of things.

He was a trained killer, not even thinking twice about killing his friends when he was but a small child. Maybe if he hadn't done that, they'd still be here with him but Zabuza wouldn't be as strong and battle-hardened as he was now. He was alone, yes, but he was a force to be reckoned with and that was something to be proud of, at least in his book it was. Did he ever get saddened by the students' slow and painful deaths? No. Was he guilty because of it? Absolutely. Though, _that_ hadn't ever stopped him before so Zabuza tried not to think about it too much; it was the _past,_ after all.

Zabuza rubbed his face with his chilled hands, eyes picking out to stare into the thinning fog. He could feel a little bit of hope at the thought getting a glimpse of the bright stars that rarely showed. He could hear the soothing rocking of the waves crashing onto the shore, soaking into the sand before retreating back to the ocean's depths. The wind blew timidly across the beach front, sending a small shiver down the swordsman's spine. The black-haired man hummed tiredly, blinking slowly at the oncoming sea that set a soothing rhythm for his ears.

The Kubikiribōchō user froze, arms straightening out as he continued to stare. There was a dark, ominous shadow rocking in the distance, hidden by the fog. He stood for a better look, hand twitching for his sword in case it was an enemy. It felt like generations by the time for - what had now been revealed to be a small boat - to show itself. It looked deserted but Zabuza Momochi didn't take chances, _ever_. He dashed as swiftly and quietly off the beach to hide in the brush in a bordering forest not too far from the shore. The swordsman couldn't lie and say he wasn't curious by this mysterious boat appearing seemingly out of nowhere so, he stayed there until it was stuck in the wet sand. From where he was sitting in the bushes, the man couldn't make out what was inside the boat, possibly a bundle of some sorts. An animal maybe? It was definitely squirming like one, that's for sure. Being extremely cautious, Zabuza left his spot to advance towards the boat. He could see the start of a light blue blanket at the bottom of the boat as he started to get closer. Once he was finally standing beside the wooden boat, the swordsman flinched away.

"What the fuck?" It was quiet in the windy air, his foul mouth not even concealing his confusion and shock. At the bottom of this rickety boat was a baby – a boy Zabuza had assumed – with skin that had been paled considerably, with a yellow hue of illness. The boy's cheeks and eyes were sunken in from malnourishment. He seemed too weak to even cry anymore, hiccupping and turning uncomfortably at the bottom of the boat. The swordsman could see the dull blue behind narrowed eyes and a spot of bright, sweaty blond hair on the baby's head. The most prominent feature of the boy's face was the strange whisker marks on his cheeks.

Zabuza gave an audible gulp. _This_ was not in his job description when he signed up to be a shinobi, a murderer. Dealing with dying children was usually from his own doing, some missions calling for the death of a child by his own two hands. He hadn't ever saved a baby before, neither had he ever really had contact with one other than seeing them with their mothers and fathers around town. What does one even do with a child? Do you tell someone? Do you let them die? Do you take care them?

His previous heartache wormed itself back into his soul, curling around his pumping heart and strangling it. It was feistier and more annoying than it had ever been. The thumping burn in his chest ached to hold this child, trying to sway Zabuza's more logical mind. It wanted to keep the boy, take care of him, but the swordsman knew better than this. He was a _killer_ , a psychotic and sociopathic killer that would be a terrible father to a child in need. However, Zabuza just couldn't stop himself from staring at the uncomfortably baby who whimpered and stared at him with those tired, sad eyes.

He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be thinking about this baby as a child that he could take under his wing, take as his own. Zabuza shouldn't be imagining life with a son. He's not good with kids. The children of his village either cry – snot and tears draining off their plump, fatty faces – when they see him, running away in fear back to their parents. Plus, there was the fact that he'd have no idea with a baby, hell, he doesn't even know the first thinking about taking care of another human being.

He'd be a bad father anyway.

Zabuza felt his chest tighten, a hand flying to the place above his heart. He could feel the erratic heartbeat underneath his fingertips. He swallowed slowly, taking a deep breath. The man hadn't ever felt like this for anyone, never gotten the same reaction out of him from anyone other than this sickly child crying quietly beneath him. The heartache never showed for the parents that were never there, the friends he murdered, not even for his teammates and fellow swordsmen and certainly not for his village. So _why_? Why does he have this stupid _caring_ emotion – of all things to fill his core – that was directed to this baby that he'd barely known for a minute or two. "What the hell am I doing here?" Zabuza sighed aloud, dragging a hand down his face slowly.

There was a gurgle from underneath him, drawing his attention away from his internal conflict. The boy's eyes had started to open up more, staring more widely at the swordsman. A small smile spread across the baby's face, whisker-like scars wrinkling slightly from it. It gave a giggle of some sorts, shuffling until hands were free from the blue blanket swaddled around him. The boy gurgled once more, holding his hands out as if waiting for Zabuza to hold him. The black-haired man could feel his hand twitch as if he would pick the child up, but he stayed in place.

He was feeling conflicted about what he should do.

Nearly everyone that he walked past either moved away or pointed at him, whispering to whoever was the closest. They _feared_ him, and so did the people he killed; Zabuza _liked_ it this way. He liked how people knew his name, knew he was dangerous and could easily kill them should they do something wrong. With his name in the bingo book, ranked pretty high with a large bounty above his head, he was sure to be feared and sought out for. It had been his way of life for _years_. But now…

How can this mere child, who came from who-knows-where, _not_ fear and shrink away from him? It was obvious that this boy wasn't afraid of him and wanted – out of all people – for a dangerous swordsman to pick him up and hold him, maybe even feed and clothe him, make sure he wasn't starving or sick anymore. It was strange, to say nonetheless. The older man's internal conflict played teasingly in his head, whispering his guilts and tugging at his chest once more. Zabuza took a deep breath in and out, slowly before reaching his shaking hands out towards the baby. In return, the blue-eyed infant smiles slightly. The black-haired man secured the boy in the arms, watching with fascination as the baby cuddled up to his warm chest; in all honesty, the boy's actions may have startled Zabuza. He felt awkward doing this, holding a baby.

However, the ache in his heart went away, so he could probably guess that it's a good sign.

Right?

Zabuza suddenly sighs, eyes downcast and a defeated look holding his tanned features, "What am I even thinking…?" He stared with sad, stormy eyes at the baby in his arms. He rubbed the side of the boy's arm with the pad of his thumb, getting a hum of content from the infant. The swordsman's gaze traveled to the repugnant and filthy blue blanket that swaddled the boy. He titled his head in curiosity, observing the word 'NARUTO' etched into the blanket with white yarn.

"Is that your name?" He whispered to the child as if the boy could understand him, "Is your name Naruto?" The blond-haired baby just murmured weakly, chubby fingers grabbing hold of the older man's hand. He stared at Naruto – assuming that it's his name which was very likely – and just shook his head slowly, guilt clawing at his heartstrings, "You'd be better off with someone else; I wouldn't even know the first thing about taking care of you."

Naruto leaned into his warmth, sticking his other thumb – the one not occupied by holding onto the swordsman's finger – into his mouth.

"Do you even want me to take care of you? Or do you just want human contact?" Zabuza found himself asking. The baby didn't give an answer. "What am I _doing_? He doesn't understand a word I'm saying." The Kubikiribōchō user mumbled, irritated by his own actions.

Naruto gave him a tired, expectant look. His sky blue eyes held the swordsman's heart in the palm his hands.

The black-haired man finally sighed, rolling his eyes, "You know what, fine, let's go home and get you cleaned up." Zabuza turned on his heels, heading for his home, hoping he'd finally made a good decision about something - _anything_ \- in his boring, _cold_ life.

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 **1.** _"Sochu"_ is a type of Japanese alcohol and, from what I've read, it tastes like distilled whiskey. The reason behind choosing this would be because I'm tired of reading that Japanese characters only drink sake which is a popular drink in Japan and is where everyone's mind goes to when you hear Japanese alcohol.

 **2.** If you are wondering why he's more vicious and not so keen on taking in a child as he was in the first book, well, that's because it was completely OOC of Zabuza - a serial killer who did not have emotions, as seen in canon - to take in a child out of the goodness of his heart. Instead, I made him feel guilty about it like his whole life was built around something that did not consist of a child taking up his personal space.


End file.
